


Can I be your +1?

by CiaraSky



Series: the 100 ship weeks [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Conversations, Dancing, Drinking, Drunk Dancing, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraSky/pseuds/CiaraSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lexa meets Clarke at a sorority party, she can't forebode how much Clarke will force Lexa to step out of her comfort zone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I be your +1?

**Author's Note:**

> Done for week 1 _Clexa_ of the "The 100 Ship Weeks", using a random picker and the sheer endless list of AU ideas I've saved on tumblr.  
>  "we drunk-kissed but you forgot about it and i don’t know how to act around you anymore wtf"
> 
> I wanted to get started on this early since I have a habit of taking some time to finish fics. So while the Clexa week technically doesn't start until the 21th September, I decided to already post the fics here, ahead of time. Links to my works for the weeks will be posted on tumblr during the actual ship weeks.

“Wait what’s your name?” Clarke shouts over the music with a smile and knitted eyebrows, leaning closer to Lexa.

“Lexa,” she responds, her lips almost brushing the skin of Clarke’s ear, the warmth of her breath reflecting off of it. The bass of the music thumps in their bones, the volume almost drowning out their voices.

“And you’re the TA for which course?” Clarke shouts back before bringing the straw of her drink to her lips. Lexa’s eyes catch on the movement, but she tears them away from it. But Clarke’s looking at her from under her lashes, which doesn’t make all of this better.

“American Legal System,” Lexa explains. Which she still has some tests to grade for. She sighs.

“Impressive,” Clarke says, smirking. Lexa finds herself smiling despite herself. What is she even doing here?

“Are you a TA?” Lexa asks in return, searching for something to keep her hands occupied with, only to settle on holding them together in front of herself.

“Oh, no,” Clarke laughs. “I’m majoring in Art Practice, there’s not much time for anything else besides my part-time job… How come I’ve never seen you around here?”

Lexa gapes at Clarke for a second at the sudden change of subject.

“I’m not living on campus,” she eventually responds. “But why do you a…”

“OH I LOVE THIS SONG!” Clarke exclaims, cutting Lexa off before she clasps Lexa’s hand and drags her onto the dancefloor, which is really just a place cleared of furniture in the middle of the room. She tilts her head back and laughs. Her fingers are still entwined with Lexa’s as she begins to dance to the beat, her hips swaying from left to right, her eyes closed for a few seconds. Lexa can’t help herself as she watches Clarke. It’s probably the alcohol, but usually, people around Lexa tend to be reserved, because she is herself, and most people don’t know what to make of it. But Clarke is blunt, and she is being herself, and it doesn’t seem to bother her that Lexa isn’t as enthusiastic as everyone else.

“Dance with me, dumbass,” Clarke then says, barely audible over the music, smirking at Lexa. Lexa is about to open her mouth to protest, but Clarke just shakes her head with raised eyebrows, her mouth still lifted in an amused line.

Lexa stares at Clarke for another second before she starts to pull away.

“I don’t think…”

“…I would be happy tomorrow if I left now. I think so too,” Clarke interrupts and pulls Lexa closer than before, slinging an arm around the small of Lexa’s back, making her sway to the beat. The brunette girl can smell the alcohol on the blonde’s breath, it’s heavy and sugary, and the music is booming in her ears, and bodies are pressing into her from every side, and she can practically feel Anya’s gaze boring into her neck, but she has held herself together for so long, focusing on her college work and TA job, and Clarke’s looking nice in the dim light, her hair falling down the line of her neck and her lips still in that _smirk_ , and ah fuck it.

“Okay,” Lexa says, pretty sure she’s the only one who can hear it, as she starts moving to the beat on her own. This kind of party music isn’t her usual taste, even less so without alcohol – which she only had one shot of yet and she doesn’t really plan on drinking more, thank you very much – but the beat is danceable, a remix of an early ’00 summer song, and her skin is hot where Clarke’s arm is slung around her, and really, what is going to happen because she is dancing with a pretty girl? She can keep herself together.

Closing the little distance left between her and Clarke, Lexa puts her arms on Clarke’s shoulders which the other girl regards with a coy smile.

The heat is trapped between them, their legs brushing against one another, Clarke’s skin smooth on hers. And Lexa realizes why she kept herself together and didn’t go to any kind of party during her first year of college… this right here. Pretty girls with nice perfume dabbed onto their neck, their hair falling down in soft waves, their eyelashes fluttering, their lips curved in half-hidden smiles, their hands sliding down her upper arms…

Before she knows it, there’s no space left between her and Clarke, their breasts pressing against each other, Clarke’s shirt riding down to reveal her cleavage. Clarke’s lost in the music, her eyes closed, but Lexa can’t relax. She begins to untangle herself from the blonde girl as someone shouts “SHOTS!” and the room erupts into excited shouts, Clarke suddenly jolted from her dancing, her face split into an excited grin, her eyes wide.

“Yeeees,” she purrs, clutching Lexa’s hand as the latter drops them from Clarke’s shoulders.

“No,” Lexa retorts, knitting her eyebrows and shaking her head.

“Yes,” Clarke insists, pulling Lexa towards the kitchen counter where a row of small plastic cups are set in a row, half of them already filled with a dark red liquid. They bustle through the cluster of people around the counter, Lexa still thinking that this is a really bad idea.

“This is a really bad idea,” Lexa shouts over the still running music and Clarke turns around to her, her face clearly showing that she’s upset.

“Pleeeeeeease,” Clarke pleads. “Just one.”

Lexa sighs. She’s gone this far already. And while Clarke might push her boundaries, she doesn’t seem to mean any harm by it. One shot can’t do any harm, right?

“Okay. But just because it’s you.”

Lexa shoots a glance over her shoulder to where Anya stands by the door, the other girl’s eyebrow raised accusingly. Lexa shakes her head, signaling that she’ll be okay. Anya’s expression mocks her, of course.

As she turns back around, Clarke stands in front of her with two shots in hand, a bright and excited smile lighting up her face. She hands Lexa one cup and holds hers up to chink.

“Bottoms up!” Clarke cheers before her and Lexa’s cups connect. Clarke knocks back her drink without hesitation while Lexa follows a bit hesitant. And before she realizes it, Clarke’s back with two new cups, filled to the brim with the same liquid. It’s only 1.5 oz but Lexa hasn’t drunken in a long time, and she isn’t exactly of the sturdy build.

“Clarke I can’t!” Lexa explains, putting her empty cup down on the counter.

“But why?” Clarke makes no move to put down the two cups she holds and eyes Lexa.

“I don’t wanna get wasted.” At this, Clarke laughs, almost spilling the liquor.

“Oh that’s a good one,” she says sarcastically. “You’re at a _sorority party_ , Lexa, what else is there but getting wasted?” Shit. Point indeed. “Here,” Clarke continues, thrusting one of the shot cups into her hand. “I’m not going to force you to drink any more, okay? I promise,” she says over the brim of her cup, looking up through her lashes.

Lexa sighs again, inhaling deeply, her jaw clenched. Then she knocks her drink back.

“Yaaaaaaaay,” Clarke rejoices, snatching the cup from Lexa and putting them down on the counter. Meanwhile, a new song starts playing, a synthesizer beat setting the rhythm. She steps closer to Lexa, taking her hands and holding them up between them. “Dance with me?”

How could Lexa decline?

*

Just a couple of songs later, Lexa realizes what a bad idea it was to accept the two shots. The world isn’t so much spinning as wobbling around her, all the people but Clarke right in front of her moving shadows, their edges blurred. And speaking of Clarke… Lexa’s hot from dancing, but her skin prickles where Clarke touches her, the blonde’s fingertips running down her arms or finding her waist…

Lexa’s breath hitches as Clarke brings her hand up to stroke a curl of Lexa’s hair behind her ear, the touch on the arch of her ear making her dizzy. Clarke rests her hand on the nape of Lexa’s neck, smiling at her. Lexa feels herself smiling back, the space between them suddenly less than it was moment ago. Lexa gazes into Clarke’s blue eyes, thinking about how the dim light makes them look almost grey but not less piercing. She doesn’t even notice her breath accelerating as she leans closer towards Clarke, their breaths mixing. Clarke’s eyes catch on her lips, her palm still curled around the back of her neck, and the music drowns out all of Lexa’s thoughts…

Suddenly, a hand closes firmly around her wrist that lays upon Clarke’s arm, pulling it away. Lexa looks at the person disturbing them. It’s Anya.

“What the hell, Lexa?” the older girl asks, pulling her further away from Clarke. Lexa feels Clarke’s hand disconnect with her skin, leaving a cool sensation behind.

“I could ask you the same, Anya,” Lexa retorts, angry.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea. See where it got you,” she says, pointing at Clarke. Lexa looks over at the other girl who eyes them confused, standing on the dancefloor between all the other people. Lexa turns back around to Anya, her jaw set.

“This really isn’t any of your business. I told you I got this. We’re just _dancing._ I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“Alright,” Anya says, eyebrows raised. “We’ll talk tomorrow then.” Then she turns around and heads for the door.

“Yeah, we will!” Lexa calls after her, but Anya doesn’t even turn around. Lexa gazes after her for another second before she turns around, and judging from Clarke’s look across the room, Lexa’s face shows exactly what she feels. Which is angry.

Lexa bridges the distance between her and Clarke in a few quick steps but even before Clarke can ask anything, Lexa slings her arm around her waist and pulls her close. The sensation of Clarke against her is enhanced with every boom of the bass and without Anya’s stare penetrating the back of her neck, Lexa lets herself go. She pushes still closer to Clarke, her hands slowly moving from Clarke’s waist to the sides of her neck. Clarke stares at her, her mouth open in surprise, but her palms are on Lexa’s hips, her fingers gripping the fabric of Lexa’s skirt in an attempt to hold her close. Someone decides to turn the music up even more and everything gets even blurrier. Clarke’s movements get smoother, the swing of her hips tantalizing, the warmth of her fingertips making Lexa long for more. Their hips are rubbing against each other, Clarke’s larger breasts pressing against Lexa’s smaller ones, the air between them charged. They hold each other’s stare, blocking out everyone around them. Lexa feels the bass pounding in her chest, the blood rising into her cheeks as Clarke’s head tips nearer. Simultaneously, they slow down, their breath syncing. The seconds seem to stretch between them, longer than normal seconds. Clarke’s eyes dart from Lexa’s eyes to her lips and back, and as the bass drops, Lexa leans forward to latch her lips onto Clarke’s.

She feels Clarke’s breath hitch, same as hers. Fuck it. Lexa curls her palm around the nape of Clarke’s neck, feeling the pressure of Clarke’s lips on hers, pressing back. It’s like Clarke needed Lexa to bridge the last distance between them to let go, judging from the way she kisses Lexa back. Not that there’s anything to complain about. Lexa adjusts, letting Clarke take over for a few seconds before Lexa catches Clarke’s lower lip between her teeth, sucking on it gently. Clarke moans only for Lexa to hear, softly. As she lets go of Clarke’s lip, the other girl doesn’t give her a chance to catch her breath as her lips find Lexa’s, then her tongue sliding gently over Lexa’s lips as if to test the waters. Lexa couldn’t care less about the people surrounding them as she kisses Clarke back, their tongues connecting gingerly at first. Clarke’s hands travel over Lexa’s body, only a flutter of fingertips on her skin, but every touch feels like an electric tingle. How could she forgo this for so long?

*

Lexa wakes with a dull throbbing in her head the next morning. Taking in a deep breath, she takes in her surroundings. From one second to the other, she realizes that this isn’t her bedroom. Pushing herself up in the bed, Lexa looks around the room. And her eyes fall on Clarke beside her in the bed. Her breath hitches.

“Fuck,” Lexa whispers to herself, looking from Clarke down herself, and to her relief, she finds that she still wears her clothes from yesterday night. Which would be awkward in any other situation, but when you wake up in an unfamiliar bed after a night of drinking with a girl next to you, having your clothes still on was a pretty certain indicator that you didn’t have sex but were too wasted to get rid of your clothes before falling asleep. Looking back at Clarke, Lexa bites her lip. She should have listened to Anya. She contemplates if she should stay until Clarke wakes up but decides against it. Sliding out of the bed almost noiselessly, Lexa picks up her remaining things from the floor and heads quietly out the door.

*

Anya welcomes Lexa with the exact expression that she knew her friend would put on. Dropping her keys into the bowl by the entrance, Lexa steps into the living room.

“Yes, I should have listened to you. Yes, you were right. Satisfied?” she says, crossing her arms and looking at Anya who sits on the sofa, eyeing her half amused, half smart-alecky.

“I told you to leave,” Anya responds as Lexa drops onto the couch next to her.

“Why didn’t you drag me out there by the collar of my shirt?” Lexa asks, dropping her head into the crease of her arm on the backrest of the couch.

“Because you told me in a slurred and really not nice way to get lost and that you could handle the situation. And look where it got you. Pining over a girl you just met,” Anya says matter-of-factly.

“I’m not pining,” Lexa murmurs from where her head is buried.

“But you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

And if Lexa didn’t have her head buried in the crease of her arm, she would have dropped it there again, groaning.

*

 Lexa’s waiting for the copy machine to finish printing the following Sunday as someone comes up to the printer next to hers.

“Hey,” the other person says and even before Lexa looks up she knows who it is.

“Clarke,” Lexa says with a forced smile as she _does_ look up. “What are you doing here?”

“Copying,” Clarke deadpans, waving a book with a dozen book marks between the pages around. “You?”

“Copying,” Lexa replies as the machine spits out the last three pages. “Gotta run, sorry.”

Snatching her book from the scanner, Lexa shoves it into her messenger back as she hastily escapes the copy shop.

Why did she do that? It’s not like Clarke forced them to kiss… but still.

*

Half an hour before Lexa’s lecture begins, she stops by at the coffee shop, getting her regular grande coffee without which she wouldn’t be able to make it through her day, without a doubt. As she grabs the cup after paying and turns around, Clarke just enters the small shop. Still holding the handle of the door in one hand, the blonde girl stares at Lexa, her lips parted in surprise. A second later, they split into a soft smile and Lexa feels an oh so familiar tug in her chest.

“Hey there,” Clarke says as she walks towards Lexa who clutches onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah I was just stopping by, my lecture is about to begin actually. I’m… I’m sorry,” Lexa explains.

“Yeah, sure, uh, don’t wanna detain you. See you?” she asks hopefully, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Of course,” Lexa says before she exits the coffee shop, just like she did yesterday in the copy shop. How come the two of them seem to cross paths _all_ the time suddenly?

*

She doesn’t see Clarke until two days later when she’s sitting in the library, brooding over a book on the state court systems, headphones in place to block out the surrounding sounds. She doesn’t notice Clarke until the latter stands in front of her desk, bending forward and waving to attract Lexa’s attention. Pulling the headphones down around her neck, Lexa looks at Clarke.

“You again,” she says. Lexa doesn’t believe in fate, or destiny, but this is definitely off. And while she doesn’t want to admit it, her heart gives a tug whenever she sees Clarke.

“Me again,” Clarke says with a shrug of her shoulders, pulling out the chair opposite Lexa, but she stops halfway sitting down. “I mean, is it ok for me to sit down?”

Lexa realizes that she stared at Clarke with knitted eyebrows.

“Uhh, sure,” Lexa catches herself, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “But I was just about to leave, so…”

She wasn’t. Actually she just got here ten minutes ago, but the amount that her head goes “God no this is so weird please I just want to leave” versus the amount that her heart goes “Please just stay for once, and talk to her” is definitely bigger. So she shuts her book and puts it on top of her notepad. Clarke, meanwhile, looks crestfallen.

“Oh, okay,” she says, watching Lexa stand up and leave.

*

“Lexa, this is getting out of hand,” Anya says when she finds her roommate in her bedroom, a sappy romance playing on her laptop, a bowl of sweets next to her, buried in blankets. Lexa just pouts at Anya. “I’m not letting you sulk in your room,” she continues, grabbing the bowl and setting it down on the desk, “all day long,” pausing the movie and shoving the laptop to the end of the bed, “over a crush you’re not doing anything about,” pulling down the blanket, exposing Lexa in her pajamas. “You’re going outside with me. We’ll grab something to eat and you’ll promise me you’ll do something to end this self-pity.”

Lexa still pouts but doesn’t protests as Anya drags her out of bed, shoving her into the bathroom.

“You have 15 minutes.”

Reluctantly, Lexa turns on the shower and gets out of her pajama, stepping under the warm stream of water. She knows that Anya is right, that she can’t keep doing this. Not to herself and definitely not to Clarke. So as she turns off the water and rubs herself dry, she knows that she has to change this, as soon as possible.

Getting into something comfy but appealing, Lexa decides to put on some make-up for the sake of it. Grabbing her purse, she heads into the living room where Anya is already waiting for her.

“Sorry for being such a sorry ass,” Lexa apologizes, and Anya nods, pointing her head at the door then.

“Let’s go then.”

*

Ten minutes later, they arrive at the local pizza place, the bistro already filled with all kinds of people, but Lexa spots a free table for two. As they make their way over to it, Anya suddenly holds her back by her elbow, turning Lexa around.

“What?” Lexa asks.

“Clarke,” Anya simply says, looking past Lexa’s shoulder so the younger girl turns around to follow Anya’s gaze. And without a doubt, Clarke sits in a corner booth with several friends over three pizzas, laughing. “Now or never, Lexa,” Anya challenges her, letting go of her arm.

“Okay, okay,” Lexa agrees. With Anya by her side, there’s no backing out. Anya gives her an encouraging nod before Lexa makes her way over to Clarke’s booth.

“Hey,” she says as she reaches it and Clarke and her friends turn to look at her.

“Hey Lexa, you, uh. Nice to see you,” Clarke says but Lexa is distracted by the girl next to her who looks at Lexa with a knowing smile.

“Can we talk? … alone?” Lexa asks before she can hesitate.

“Uh, sure,” Clarke agrees, elbowing her friend with the knowing smile before shooing the boy next to her away so she can join Lexa. Without saying another word, they head for the door, Anya skillfully studying the menu card in order to ignore them as they pass her. Once outside, Lexa turns to Clarke again.

“Wow, you look great,” Clarke says without a pause, stumbling on her words as she takes in Lexa’s appearance.

“Thanks, I don’t really have the energy to put on make-up on a regular day,” she confesses, feeling the heat creeping into her cheeks at the compliment. “You look great too.” And Clarke really does. Her hair is secured in a loose braid that falls over her shoulder and she’s wearing a frayed pink knitted sweater. And there’s that tug again. “Listen, I’m sorry about my behavior the past days, that really wasn’t nice towards you.”

“Yeah that was weird. Is that what you want to talk about?” Clarke asks, reaching out and entwining her fingers with Lexa’s. Lexa wants to pull away, but she keeps herself from doing so.

“Yes. No. Well. Don’t you remember?” Lexa asks confused. She knows she should explain her behavior, but she can’t do so without saying why she is behaving that way.

“What? The party?” Clarke responds, her eyebrows knitted in that way that they almost aren’t. “Of course I remember.” Lexa feels herself exhale relieved. “Although, admittedly, everything after our second row of shots is a big blur.”

Clarke laughs, but Lexa feels her heart drop. So she _doesn’t_ remember. But as soon as Clarke notices that Lexa doesn’t laugh along, she stops, eyeing her concerned.

“What happened?” Clarke asks, her eyes wide. “I didn’t puke on you, did I?”

Lexa takes a few breaths.

“I kissed you, okay?”

The words hang in the air as Clarke stares at her, her expression blank. Confusion crosses her face but before she can respond, Lexa continues. “And you kissed me back. I… I didn’t want to get myself in this mess. I understand it if you don’t want to see me again, Clarke.”

Now, more confusion crosses Clarke’s face.

“Not see you again? Why do you think I kept talking… tried talking to you even though I didn’t remember us kissing? Because I wanted to have sleepovers with you where we complain about how awful boys are?” Clarke stops for a second, thinking. “Well, I do wanna have sleepovers with you. But the adult kind. The I-am-bisexual-and-you’re-sexy-as-fuck kind of sleepover.”

Now Lexa’s the one staring. Great. Not only that she first thought that Clarke wasn’t interested in her, now Clarke basically said she’s only interested in Lexa for sex.

“I don’t think this is going to…”

“This didn’t came across properly. We could grab a coffee first. Or a pizza. Or go someplace fancier if that’s your style,” Clarke interrupts, looking anxious. “I know it wasn’t the smartest move to hit on you when I was drunk, but you really do seem nice, and I want to get to know you, Lexa. Even if you’re not the most enthusiastic person I ever met. And you acted real weird these past days. But I’m willing forgive you if you will go out with me.” Another pause, both of them holding their breaths. “What do you say?”

At this, Lexa has to smile to herself. She glances down at their still linked hands before she looks at Clarke again, the ghost of the smile still on her lips.

“Coffee will do.”


End file.
